Our Straitjackets Are Slipping
by enaskoritsi
Summary: /AU - Axel x Roxas/ It was a terrible place, a place where they stole your soul and left you with nothing but broken memories. Once he saw those eyes, Axel knew he was getting Roxas out of there, no matter what it would take.
1. C

_Disclaimer : _I do not own Kingdom Hearts, or anything associated.

/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/

_Our Straitjackets Are Slipping_

-x-x-x-x-

**C**

-x-x-x-x-

What does it mean to be alive?

I researched it once, in one of the tiny tattered dictionaries that someone had been lucky enough to hide underneath the facade of gleaming floorboards. They probably cried when they realized I took it, but that doesn't really matter at the moment. What matters is life, counting as life, and I want to understand what it means.

The dusty book had few answers for me beneath stained pages decorated with no calligraphy, but only rips and tears.

_Alive_ (adj.) - having life; living; existing; not dead or lifeless

It hadn't been the answer I was looking for.

According to this authority, I am alive at this moment. Since my lungs pump air and a reasonable pulse vibrates underneath my skin, I am a living being. I'm made up of molecules, maybe even those atoms I guess, but I've never had a career in science. So I exist. That doesn't mean I'm alive.

What about living? What about seeing, breathing in fresh air and feeling the sun warm my skin? What about noticing another world outside the morose brick walls I've come to know that keep me inside like a caged animal? What about having a choice, any choice, meager or monumental, just a decision of my own?

That's what being alive is to me. So as far as I'm concerned, I'm dead.

We're all dead, each and every one of us. I bet if I pressed a hand to my heart, I wouldn't even feel it beating.

It's impossible to live here. It's like tying the weakest mouse down with six-thousand pounds of weight, tossing it into the deepest ocean, and telling it to swim back up. No one can do it, and that's all there is to it.

It's _that room_, I know, that does it. Everyone is forced inside of it, but by that stage, the fight has died within them. I remember being dragged toward it; I fought I think, at least, I like to imagine I did. I vaguely remember tossing a lit match on one of those white jackets, can faintly hear the faintest timbre of my own prideful laughter. I can't recall when I've laughed last, but that's not important. Those are all little memories that I'm not supposed to know; tiny, smokey wisps from a burning candle, too impossible to catch between my fingers and hold on. I've forgotten so much already, just like the rest of them, and soon I won't recollect anything at all. In fact, I almost don't want to come upon these little bits of truth, because it means that it'll soon be snatched away. Doesn't make much sense, does it?

Maybe all the crazy is getting to me.

But the one thing, the single factor that no one can ever forget, no matter how many times they shock us, or beat us, or shove pills down our throats, is the darkness.

It came from _that room_, poisonous and deadly, its inky tendrils wrapping around anyone who enters and squeezing them tight until their souls pop. The darkness steals our minds, our spirits. It devours everything that we were and spits us back out, empty shells barely able to walk on our own. They take us to the darkness when we start recalling things, maybe a mother, or even something tedious as a pet.

Wham!

They toss us inside and slam the doors, a jolt so sharp and foreboding that it feels like the brain bursts under the skull. It's only minutes, but by the time we're out it feels like days, and we're exactly as they want us.

Silent, and obeying.

Now, I've never been a follower, at least, I don't think so. You see, when you forget your memories, you lose yourself. Remembrances are what shape you, mold you into who you become. Maybe you're thinking, how can I know I forgot something if it's all been taken from us? Well, that's the flaw in this grand scheme of things. We can all feel the emptiness, the void inside of ourselves. We know something is missing, and that the dreary life we live can't be the only option in this world.

But that's really besides the point.

The fact is, we have to remodel ourselves, swirl our hands in the vat and slush out whatever pieces of a personality seem favorable. I'm who I am, not because that's who I'm meant to be, but because those are the pieces I was able to glue together with the sparse adhesive of my sanity.

So again, I like to say I'm not a follower. When they wipe our slates and drop us in oblivion, I'm one of the few who don't vanish into a timid pile of nothingness. Each time, the hatred I breed for this place multiplies, like cancerous cells. Yet, up until this point, I've followed orders without question, even though I loathe whatever is left of me for doing so. I must've conjured up some demented image of loyalty, but it once was jammed in me like a rigid, metal wire.

However, the key words there are 'up until this point', and 'once'.

Because, I saw them bring him in this morning.

He was screaming, which is, more or less, common.

We were all leaning up against the glass, the window that led to the room where they all came from. A new arrival is rare, and I think, this new one only makes about thirteen or fourteen of us, maybe a few more if I took more care in how I counted. I remember (ha, remember) Demyx sniveling on my left, and Larxene screeching and grating on my ears about something or other behind me.

The door burst open. They were dragging him by his wrists, and he was twisting in their grip, howling something we couldn't hear. His angry blue eyes were bewildered and panicked, the tips of his blonde hair falling into his eyes as he began digging his heels into the ground. The men in white were robotic and stiff, keeping him clutched in their metal claws without mercy.

For one split second, it seemed like he was going to make it. He snarled darkly, tearing his arms out of their death grips and spinning around rapidly. His feet made it five steps before they moved to grab him again, but a furious leg shot out and kicked one in the jaw.

Everyone was fixated on the scene, and some gasped at the nerve, the stupidity of he who did not know what was to come. I smirked, pushing my arm against the glass and leaning my head on it, thinking with a familiar smirk,

'Huh, he's still got some fight in him.'

While the other stumbled backwards, its partner punched the boy in the stomach mercilessly, knocking the air out of him and causing him to collapse on his knees. They dragged him towards the door, the shrieks from _that room_ growing in volume as he approached. He shook his head from side to side, jerking around for any hope of escape, and for one moment, his desperate, yet still rebellious gaze landed on our prone figures. His eyes bored into mine, tossing away bruised pride and begging, groveling almost for me to stop them.

Within seconds, they ripped him away, throwing him into the room and closing the door, and their ears, to the harsh banging erupting from the other side. The bystanders around me dispersed, but I stayed there, my shoulder digging into the cool glass while I stared at the jigging door knob, my green eyes narrowing in conviction.

I didn't know it then, but when everything began crashing down I could trace it back to the exact second.

It was at that moment that I decided to save him.

/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/

_Author's Note : _Hi. The desire to write this kind of just blurted in my head the other day. I'm not sure if it's worth continuing, so please review if you want it to. Also, normal chapters will be usually in third person, and have actual dialogue and situations, not just thinking. I did a lot of sort of explaining in this chapter, so I apologize if its boring or just kinda "whaaaaat?"

This is probably going to pretty dark and deep, at least with the direction I'm heading in. And it will most likely evolve into Axel x Roxas. If you do like this, and have some desired pairings while they are still open, leave it in a review if you'd like. :)

Sorry if I missed any spelling or grammar, but I did my utmost :) .

So yes, please review with your opinions, whatever they might be, and whether or not I should continue this.

Thank you for reading.


	2. A

_Disclaimer : _I do not own Kingdom Hearts, its characters, or anything associated.

/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/

_Our Straitjackets Are Slipping_

-x-x-x-x-

**A**

-x-x-x-x-

He was drowning, cement clogging his lungs and dragging him while his arms flailed weakly at his sides. His lips parted to call out, to scream, but those filthy shadows crowded into his mouth and dragged him under, slinking down his throat and attacking from the inside. The cold set in, freezing him inch by inch, leaving behind a numb, frigid cast that could do nothing but let itself sink.

_Go to sleep, Roxas. It'll all be alright when you wake up._

He squinted his eyes tightly as his marble body thumped against the bottom of the stone cage, twitching uncomfortably as slithering sounds filled his ears.

_Who's Roxas?_

_You are. Don't you remember?_

_No...That's not my name._

_Well, what is?_

Clammy, grimy hands crawled up his arms and legs, digging into his skin with their claws and filling their air with the sickening shrills of ripping flesh.

_...I don't know._

_That's because you're Roxas. Think; it's who you are._

_No! That's not me!_

_Are you sure?_

They were everywhere, on him and in him without relief. Those sharp fingers tore him apart piece by piece, covering him with their wriggly bodies and sending him further into the crushing darkness.

_I-_

_You don't know, just like before. You don't know anything. Trust me. I know who you are, Roxas._

_I told you! I'm not Roxas!_

In unison, thousands of razor claws crashed into his chest, and the scream he had been holding in screeched through the pressure, cracking it in half as it all fell apart around him.

_Then who are you?_

"Roxas? Wake up. It's okay now."

Heavy eyelids forced themselves open, sliding upwards and revealing a faint blue. The boy lifted his weak gaze over his head, observing the girl standing above him.

"Hello," she smiled brightly, her cornflower hair sinking over one shoulder when she titled her head to finish simply, "My name's Naminé."

Her happiness dimmed slightly at the dull, glazed look she was given, and she pressed the tan object in her arms closer to her chest defensively, waiting for him to speak.

"Naminé..." he repeated finally, nodding his head slowly at the sound of his own voice. He glanced up at her, realizing for the first time that he was lying on a thin bed, the gray blanket underneath his body giving him none of the warmth he needed.

"Do you know what...I'm doing here?"

Naminé's smile shrunk a little as she replied, "Don't you remember Roxas? You've always been here. We're friends."

"Roxas?" the boy reiterated, "Is that...me?"

"Mhm," Naminé hummed pleasantly, her cheerfulness returning with a radiant force. "I knew you'd remember!

"I don't understand," he stumbled unsurely, sitting up and pushing tousled blonde hair out of his eyes. "I don't know anything, this name...who am I?"

"You're Roxas," she stated, this time forcefully, shoving the item in her hands into his face, shaking it impatiently until he took it apprehensively. Giving her an odd look, he flipped open the cover, his eyes skimming over the page hungrily as he thirsted for answers.

It was a picture, amateurish and sloppy. Its form was twisted and its features, grotesque and ugly. Smudges of yellow hair pointed in all directions, and cerulean splotches stared outwards blindly.

"It's you," Naminé confirmed brightly, tapping one pale finger lightly on the paper. "I knew you were coming; I saw you in my dreams. This is who you are. Roxas."

His head began pounding, the rhythmic thumping splitting open his scalp and pouring out invisible stinging blood. Tiny white flashes exploded in the corner of his eyes, turning Naminé's pretty face into that of a monster, one second missing an eye, the next half her face was cast in shadow. Real blood seeped through his mouth with a bitter taste, revealing that he had been biting the inside of his cheek.

Roxas wanted to scream from the excruciating feeling, but his senses weren't coherent. He felt his hands grip the picture enough to hear the tearing of paper, and Naminé's interjection was lost in the grating hurricane. His body ached to throw something, to rip something apart like he was being torn apart. Somehow he knew it would help; it would release. He didn't know why, but something in the back of his mind was telling him to set the pain free.

As soon as it left, his vision returned and the discomfort faded, leaving him sitting on the cool bed with a sketchbook; harboring a picture shredded on the sides. The iron taste of blood disappeared from his mouth, and the world turned silent and placid once more.

Roxas pressed his palm into the picture, covering the likeness and trailing his touch down the page until his reached the bottom.

"Roxas," he accepted, brow furrowing in confusion when Naminé slid her book out of his slackened grip. "...This is me."

"Yes," Naminé chided warily, examining the rumpled pages of her possession with a furrowed brow. She tucked it under one arm with the care a mother would give her child, giving Roxas a warm smile. It was like the past minute never happened.

Had he imagined it?

Naminé noticed his confusion, sitting down next to him and tucking in her legs daintily.

"Do people..." Roxas started, shifting to face her. "usually forget things here?"

Naminé giggled airily, clasping her hands earnestly and preparing to answer.

"That's what they'll tell you."

Two heads snapped towards the door, and two blue-eyed gazes mixed with one of acid green. Roxas viewed the newcomer curiously, reassurance bubbling within him at the knowledge of other inhabitants in this strange place. The young man was watching them both guardedly, his posture defensive and tight, as if with repulsion. He wanted to know what this person had to say; a whisper in his deaf ears was screaming to him.

This person had answers.

"What do you mean?" Roxas pressed, forcing his legs to support his body when he decided to stand, earning a worried look from Naminé, who now appeared very uncomfortable.

"Exactly what I said," the other shot back, his tall body leaning against the doorframe in a forcibly lazy manner. Tilting his head towards Naminé, he frowned darkly, crossing his arms across his chest. For a moment, she looked close to tears, her wide eyes wounded and shining, but instead, she only clutched her notepad, imbedding the rings into her skin.

"What does that-"

"Don't tell him," she mumbled, cutting his question off and lowering her head pitifully while the newcomer only watched with apathy. A delicate heat twisted the air, tension crackling when he took a few daring steps forward.

"He'll find out eventually, you know," he drawled coldly, ignoring Roxas' inquisition of, "Tell me what?"

Naminé's head suddenly shot up, her tiny legs taking two bold steps towards the other so she could glare in the green-eyed boy's face, and he met her glare with one equally or more powerful.

"He doesn't have to!" she shouted childishly, "Stop it, or I'll-"

"You'll what?" he teased cruelly, running his fingers through his crimson hair and giving her such a look of cold nonchalance that Naminé's words dried up. After a few seconds, her gaze switched from soft to flint, and her posture straightened.

"They'll erase you," she spat venomously, but to her surprise, he only chuckled maliciously, leaning down to her level in a taunting way.

"Then he'd find out anyway," he breathed with a mocking smirk, "and you'll have to start all over. What a shame."

Her mouth froze halfway, after a few seconds finally closing with resignation. Without any reply, she pushed past her opponent, sending him a few inches backwards as her bare feet thumped down whatever lay beyond the doorway. The redhead watched her departure for a few moments before rolling his shoulders in a bored manner and turning back to Roxas, who stood awkwardly by the bed.

"So, Roxas huh?" he began, raising an eyebrow when the one in question melted into confusion.

"It's on your door."

"Oh," Roxas said dumbly, shifting one foot uncomfortably before just asking bluntly, "Who are you?"

Those poisonous eyes hardened, but the response was civil, "You can call me Axel, and you might want to commit that to memory."

Roxas looked up at him wonderingly, beginning to feel frustration by his own lack of knowledge, "Why?"

"You'll forget it." Axel stated with an obvious air while stalking back out the door, "and I don't want to repeat myself later."

With that, Roxas watched what the being that might hold all his answers disappear back into the shadows

/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/

_Author's Note : _Yeah...I don't know if I'm going to continue this story. It seems a bit...iffy to me, but if people like it, I'll try to get myself together. I hope you like this chapter. It felt a little short and rushed to me, and I felt like I was giving everything away to fast :( . I do have a lot of ideas though, and I hope I do find it in myself to pop out more chapters and get them in.

Please review. I'd appreciate it more than anything.


	3. N

_Disclaimer :_ I do not own Kingdom Hearts, its characters, or anything associated.

/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/

_Our Straitjackets Are Slipping_

-x-x-x-x-

**N**

-x-x-x-x-

No.

Roxas stayed rooted to the ground as Axel deserted him, and the tiny pieces of the world he had formed in his conscious crumbled to nothing.

No, no, no, no, no.

He skidded into the hall, his bare feet screeching against the freezing tiles. His pulse was leaping erratically under his skin, crying out with panic and frustration.

Axel was gone.

The long white hallway had opened his jaws and swallowed him up, not leaving a single red hair to point Roxas in the white direction. The blank corridor laughed at him, jeered at his fear, and screamed out his own question;

Where would he go now?

"Axel!" he shouted as loudly as he could, his plea leaping off the walls and cartwheeling through the air to taunt him. He wasn't there; Axel was far, far away. His answers were very much gone, and he was very much alone.

Glancing around, a tiny voice in the back of his mind said to call Naminé. She would come if he called; hadn't she been there before anyone? Another voice, a timid one, told him no, that she couldn't be trusted. Right? Isn't that what Axel had said? But then, the other voice argued, who knows if Axel himself could be trusted. Still, the second voice persuaded, Naminé never called him a liar, remember? She was afraid, like he might tell you something. Go find Axel, Roxas. Go on, start walking.

Roxas lifted one foot apprehensively, gathering resolve and moving forward into the corridor. The first few steps were painful, and it only grew worse as he continued, which wasn't how it should have worked. Things should have gotten easier, but the world around him just grew more frightening when his eyes soaked it up.

There was nothing to it.

The walls surrounding him like a steel cage were dripping snow; the floor clawing his feet was a slithering sheet of ice; the ceiling was a completely cloud-covered sky.

Looking down at his tanned hands and black clothes (the same t-shirt and pants Axel and Naminé had worn), Roxas knew he didn't belong there.

Breathing deeply to try to settle the storm brewing in his stomach, Roxas pushed onwards finally taking notice that there were white doors blending in with the blizzard dragging him in. The only object that revealed their presence was the doorknob, protruding like an unwanted tumor into the stale air. When he peeked closer, he discovered the silver writing calligraphed on the right side, barely visible or legible. Strange symbols were painted underneath, but Roxas couldn't take the time to decipher their meaning. He was too busy begging with the name to trigger a memory.

Larxene.

His brow furrowed while he searched his thoughts for something, anything to tell him what that meant, whose name it was. The cobwebs that filled his mind only shifted at his request, giving no information. Pressing his lips in a thin line to quell the chaotic questions blooming everywhere he looked, he kept walking.

Just find Axel. He'll tell you everything. He has to.

"I don't understand!"

Roxas froze, jerking his head in the direction of the sound. It sounded so familiar, so lost and unsure. He must've sounded like that himself a few minutes ago.

"You need to calm down. It'll be-"

"Where am I? I...I can't-"

Oh God. Roxas held his breath, feeling like his life was on rewind. His thoughts were in a buzzing blur and all he could think was,

What kind of place was this?

"You've just forgotten things. This isn't the first time."

"What are you talking about! Go away!"

"Relax, I'll help you."

"No you won't! Stop, stop it! I'm...scared. I'm really scared."

Roxas turned his head away, pressing his hands into his ears until his nails were digging in and running forward blindly.

"I know."

He ran, trying to push the voices out of his head, even as they settled in to call it home. If he had a sense of humor, he might have laughed. He wanted to remember things, but forget this? The irony poisoned the air and burned his heaving chest.

Everything was wrong; nothing made sense. He had no past, no life, and it was all catching up with him. What was he? A frightened mess like whoever that was who was screaming? Was that all he was, all he was going to be?

Tears brimmed in his eyes, and he wanted to yell out that he was just like that voice. He was lost. He was afraid.

His vision blurred as his feet pounded on the floor, sending out crazed waves of sound that hit the walls and cracked them. He wanted to scream, to cry.

It wasn't fair!

Why, why did that person have someone to help them? Why were they there to explain things, to show what was real? Why did he have no one, just someone who he apparently couldn't trust and another who had given him nothing?

All he had was a name, a name he knew didn't belong to him, a name that he had to accept anyway.

Roxas collapsed, gripping the wall so he wouldn't slide to the ground. His legs were on fire, howling from the pain that moved from his thighs to his toes. His heart was pumping wildly, sending blood rushing to his head for more splitting torture.

"Axel!" he shouted, his throat burning to join the rest of him when he kept screaming.

"Axel!"

"What?"

Roxas opened his eyes from where he had squeezed them shut. His vision was blurry, but he could still make out a redheaded figure standing with one hand on its hip and an eyebrow raised.

"Axel," he whispered, falling to his knees from the pounding in his head. Tilting his head up at the other, he mumbled,

"I'm scared, too."

Neither one of them moved for a few moments, and a thin frost settled, feeling heavier than it should. Finally, Axel sighed, meandering forward slowly and holding out a hand.

"Yeah," he spoke, pulling back when Roxas didn't grab it, "but what could you expect anyway?"

Roxas stared at him, eyes still shining, "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Roxas," Axel rolled his eyes with impatience. "You don't remember anything, right?"

When Roxas nodded slowly, he continued, crossing his arms against his chest.

"So, like I said, what could you expect?" he repeated, giving Roxas time to process each word. "All you've got is the name Naminé stuck on you, which probably isn't real, by the way; in case you haven't figured that out by now."

Stretching his hand towards Roxas once more and wiggling it until he took it, Axel went on, "So you're lost, just like the rest of us are. It takes a while to get used to."

Roxas stumbled a little when Axel heaved him to his weary feet, and he grumbled, "I don't want to be used to it."

Axel snorted slightly with some bitter amusement, "Who does?"

Roxas looked at him dumbly, his blue eyes wide and yearning for understanding, brightening to something akin to hope when Axel sighed again in something like resignation.

"Fine, fine," he replied to Roxas' unspoken question, turning around and waving his hand for Roxas to follow. He walked alongside of him while Axel led them through a variety of labyrinths as if he knew them perfectly, something Roxas was instantly jealous of.

"You want me to explain everything, right?" Axel complained, running his fingers through his hair tiredly. "Great."

Roxas rubbed one arm awkwardly, "If you don't want to..."

Once he let the words escape his lips, he felt a rush of panic run to his heart. The confusion, the cloud that settled over his mind; it wasn't so hard when Axel was there, when he wasn't alone. He needed someone, and what if they left him now? Roxas knew he wouldn't survive it.

"Never mind," Axel shrugged it off, turning a sharp left that resulted in Roxas hurrying after him. "At least you won't get lied to."

They walked in a thick silence for a while, until Roxas' voice poked its head out bravely, "How'd you find me?"

Axel stopped short, turning to face Roxas with an incredulous look.

"You were insanely loud, Roxas, and that's something."

Roxas felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment, but Axel just smirked and moved on.

"Well I..." he muttered, flicking his eyes up to meet the green ones that shifted down in inquisition. "I remembered your name."

Axel laughed, and the warm feeling filled the hall and dared to melt a little of the snow.

"Good job kid, remind me to give you a gold star."

/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/

_Author's Note : _First off, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I know it's a pathetic trait, but I'm insecure and that's the truth. Please review. I want to know what I do right so I can include that, and what I do wrong so I can remove it and improve.

Anyway, so here's a chapter. After making twenty-six puppets today for a project I just felt in the writing mood. I hope you enjoyed it. I...think it's kind of odd, but then again, I don't think it's an unreasonable reaction after losing everything you know. Well, I'd love your opinions and advice. Still not sure if I'll continue, but I want to get to the end, because I already see it in my head.

Oh, and I'm sorry if Axel is out of character. I just...really struggle with him.


	4. Y

_Disclaimer :_ I do not own Kingdom Hearts, its characters, or anything associated.

_Author's Note : _I'm sorry it took a while for an update, but I'm happy to say this is the longest one so far. Expect them to get longer, because I think these short ones have been cheap. After this point, things should finally start moving too, so that should help.

Thank you, not only to the wonderful people who reviewed, but to those who favorite and put this on alert. It really means a great deal to me.

Now, once again, I ask for you all to please review. As I previously have mentioned, it helps the desire to write when I see people giving me feedback. It's just a nice thing to do, you know?

Please enjoy, and thanks for reading.

(The first person is Axel, and every time it is so, it will be Axel)

/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/

_Our Straitjackets Are Slipping_

-x-x-x-x-

**Y**

-x-x-x-x-

This kid...needs to stop staring at me.

I mean, it's been what? A full minute or so, maybe two? That's enough for him to have the decency to blink at least. But no, he just keeps staring at me with his cracked blue eyes.

I can see his thoughts, buzzing through his head and casting shadows against the weak windowpane where the rain is pelting against it from the inside. His face is placid, like the thin sheet of ice above a frozen pond, giving a false security while the waters still rage underneath. It's too early to see how he'll take it, but two options are open; anger or denial. I've seen people face both, but there's only one the strong choose.

"They take...our memories?" Roxas finally mutters, and I thank whatever powers that be when his eyes flicker to the wall in a blank glance. I moved back from where I sat on my bed, the covers shifting when I curled my arms for support against the headboard.

"You got it," I replied, watching where Roxas sat in his awkward cross-legged position, looking stiff and out of place. "Did you think you were always such a mindless wreck?"

Roxas looked back at me, his deep eyes enigmatic when he spluttered out, "I didn't know what to think." He tried to relax, spreading his legs out a little more so he looked less like a marble statue and more like the shell of a human being he was.

I let out a low sigh, allowing my eyes fall shut before giving, "You better get some initiative if you don't want people thinking for you."

He started, a puzzled expression most likely melting over his face. I didn't bother to open my eyes before continuing, my tone a little crueler than I intended at first.

"How long have you been here? A few hours at the most?" I sat up, green finally unleashing itself on unsuspecting cerulean. An aged, twisted shadow of a smile contorted my lips as I went on.

"I told you this place is nothing but a big lie. I told you Naminé lies. You," I stated, pointing an accusing finger at him while he shied backwards, "just said you don't know what to think. Well..."

A smirk settled on my face.

"What if I'm lying?"

Roxas' face paled, his mouth dropping open with an anxious, "But you said you wouldn't-"

"But I could've been lying," I interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Right?"

There was silence, just the two of us analyzing each other while distrust seeped into the air like numbing poison and set the newcomer back on edge.

"You're starting to get it," I broke the soundlessness, my voice sounding harsh and foreign. "Don't just take what people tell you and believe it. That makes you a fool. You need to build trust, if you find anyone worthwhile."

"So...how can I trust what you're telling me?" Roxas gestured hopelessly, his hand flopping around in a useless manner. "How do I know what's real?"

"Decide for yourself," I advised, his features morphing into something I might guess would be unsure determination. What an oxymoron.

"Take what you want, and throw out the crap that doesn't make sense," I barreled on, flicking some stray hair out of my face. "Example, I told you this place takes our memories. You have no memories. Ding, we have a winner."

Giving him a pointed look, I said, "Example two, Naminé told you you've always been here. You, on the other hand, don't remember being here. Aw, too bad folks, try again next time. Get it?"

After a few tense moments, Roxas nodded slowly, as if it was a great effort, before letting a small smile slip. His hands relaxed from where he had been gripping the thin blanket underneath us, and the knuckles faded from a painful white to their normal color.

"I understand," he spoke in a hushed tone, keeping his gaze on his hands for a while. "I have to make the choice myself, who I trust. But..."

He kept looking at his fingers, probably afraid to change his view upon anything else, "I can still find out who I am, was, somehow. I'll just have to make new memories here until I get my old ones back, right? I can build off those."

I scratched my head, my eyes burning through the door that kept me separate from the deadly mass of generic hallways and corridors. I could practically play a scene of black-clad prisoners in my mind, each lethargic and sick in their own disgusting way. It would be a shame to see another one join the ranks, one with blonde hair and what should be peaceful eyes.

"It's what most of us do," I finally murmured, the quieter tone catching Roxas' attention. It was a thought we all had, making ourselves up into something we figured we were supposed to be, who we had been. It's almost the only thing we had, an attachment to a past that had been ripped out of our hands. Still, it was nothing compared to something concrete, something true. "Did you hear the screaming before?"

"Out there," he confirmed, moving so his legs were free. He swung them against the end of the bed restlessly, bare feet sending a thumping through my room.

"That was Demyx," I explained, Roxas' forehead furrowing and most likely concentrating on remembrance. I almost laughed, but decided it would be best to let the noise die in my throat.

"That was his ninth time," I divulged, my voice void of any compassion of humanly pity. "He gets his mind wiped more than most of us. Whenever he finds someone to be, he loses it."

Roxas leaned forward with a mumbling, "Why?'

Shaking my head, I pushed the inquisition back with, "That's not the point. What you need to focus on is, even the memories you make, you don't get to keep. They'll take whatever they can from you, no matter how much you try to hold on to it. It's like...fire. No matter how brightly it burns, there's always someone...to blow it out."

"You don't own a thing here, Roxas," I said coldly, ignoring the misery darkening his eyes. "Keep your new memories for as long as they last; just don't expect much."

I should've felt guilty for shattering the small optimistic hope he had sculpted, but I knew it was better this way, better without a pathetic facade of impossible possibility.

"Then, why do they keep us here?" he pressed abruptly, his voice coated with a growing fury that made my own eyes sparkle in expectation. "Why are we here?"

"What do you think?" I replied cryptically, and words laced with sarcasm when I crossed my arms in mockery. "There must be something wrong with us."

"There's nothing wrong with me!" he spat reflexively, suddenly on his feet and revealing all the instability he had been carefully hiding. I stayed in my seat, unable to keep the expression of amusement off my face.

"Says the boy who doesn't even know his own name."

Our glares crackled through the air, two shocks of thunder echoing in the atmosphere. It came with a surprise that this was one of the longest conversations I had had since I had gotten here. This kid was just a myriad of emotions, fresh and new, not yet squashed and trampled upon until he was a sniveling mess. If I was naive, I might believe there was hope for him. I was glad to know better this time. I wasn't going to place hope in a human being with a glass skeleton, time-bomb heart and body that was already preparing to die every millisecond that passed.

"Do you even know yours?" he finally retorted with the slightest edge of venom, and I scowled at the almost invisible flinch the question sent through me.

"Want to guess?" I hissed back, his face growing sadder where it should've turned confident, where mine would've grown proud with the verbal victory.

Roxas took a few unsteady steps forward, staggering around the room with clumsy steps, trying to let out whatever was boiling under his skin.

"No," he croaked dryly, faint regret lacing the word. "I'm...sorry. I don't want to fight with you."

"Don't worry about it," I accepted indifferently, my anger washing away as quickly as it had come. It didn't really matter, such a trivial blow. "It happens."

Names..the people who have them probably don't realize how lucky they are. They go hand-in-hand with memories, tying you down, making you real, giving you something, people, to live for. Who are you without a name? Just another purposeless body stumbling through life with nowhere to go.

The names they give us...nothing more than labels. Labels to stick outside our doors, on our files, to call us like the experiments they pick apart. There's no family for Axel, no home that's waiting for Axel to come home.

There's none of that for any Roxas either.

"Roxas," I spoke when his ragged breathing fluttered against the silence. "It's-"

"I don't want this..." he trembled, his words garbled when he was able to form a coherent response. "I want it back! Whatever I had...why would they take it from me?"

I moved to stand with obligation, taking a few steps toward him and looking down at the boy who was doing his hardest to hold back childish tears. It was a pitiful sight, and I knew the last thing a normal person would feel at this point was relief.

At the same time, once again I had to suppress a smile. Anger. For some reason, I knew he wouldn't disappoint me.

"Nobody knows, Roxas," I rested a hand on his shoulder lightly, but he backed away and I let it fall with a nonchalant shrug. It made no difference to me.

He turned those blurry pools to meet my solid ones, a few free tears finally sliding down his cheeks in a pleading gesture for reassurance.

"I..." he struggled, uncertainty weakening his tongue. "I need someone to trust, Axel."

Great.

"Uh..." I trailed off, giving in when I realized there really wasn't much of an option. I didn't want another drone stumbling down the halls, right? Plus...maybe having someone to talk to wouldn't be so horrific. The idea of friendship was alien here, when I could forget him any day, when he could forget me any day (which was more likely) but still, I had my ways to take care of that.

"Alright," I conceded, holding out the same hand he had been so reluctant to take before. "You can trust me, but I'm not promising anything. Expect disappointment, got it?"

My words were foreboding, and in other words, anything but reassuring.

But damn him for smiling anyway.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Bare feet made almost no sound against the cool floor, just the slightest creaks tip-toeing over the air every few feet. Walls passed in a whisked, toxic blur of white and white alone, until the faintest imprint of a door tried to make a stand. A pale hand curled around the knob, tugging it open with a tiny smile at the sight of the specially engraved nameplate on the side.

There was color in this room.

Blue was trickling over the floor in splotchy circles, green echoing footprints from one side of the room to the other. Orange dripped from the ceiling to the floor, and red ran rampant from the door to a pristine table standing alone among the chaos.

Naminé stepped towards the table, allowing her clean feet to smudge in with every puddle on the way, puddles of brown and yellow following in her wake. She gazed upon its contents, the perfect paper sitting piled on one side, and the clean racks of lively color decorated the right.

Reaching out with a small hand, she crushed two crayons in-between her fingers, the paper tearing while the wax snapped with a shriek. The yellow and brown mashed into a scribbled mush before she dropped them back in the box, taking out a black and digging it so hard into the paper the point snapped and flew across the room.

Apathetic, beady eyes watched her work, the motions shifted from crazed and wild to pensive and thoughtful. Her audience sat in their balcony seats, enjoying the show while their performer created on.

The dented surface of the crayon made the strokes crooked, little flecks covering the page and staining her hands as he continued. Tossing the charcoal colored utensil back towards the rest, Naminé scrambled for a while, stroking it across the paper for a few seconds before slowing to a stop.

The white wasn't showing up.

Throwing the crayon across the room with an irritated huff, Naminé grabbed a light blue, sketching the outlines of walls and a floor sloppily. Letting the stick of colored wax roll off the table with a dull thud, she gripped the picture in her hands, hearing it crinkle kindly in her clutches.

In her eyes, the image was beautiful.

With trained, patient fingers, she tacked the picture to the wall, adding four more holes to the hundreds of others that lay hidden underneath paper masks. She pricked one finger but continued, the tiny drop of blood sinking into the rest of the red mulling against the floor.

Stepping backwards slowly, her wide, azure eyes kept their meticulous gaze until the paper seemed to curl upon itself in embarrassment. Her hands moved from her sides in slow-motion until they clasped one another lightly, softly.

"Hello, Roxas."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Roxas is gone. I led him back to his room, giving him a basic outline so he wouldn't get lost again if he was careful. The brief description of others he might meet would have to be enough until he could handle more, when his mind wasn't so fragile enough to lag behind his resolve.

Now I'm alone in my room. Alone with my four white-washed walls. Alone with my matching bedspread and frame, angelic colors that laugh at me and my black clothes. Alone with an invisible being that taunts me with silent jibs, pulling at the inky sleeves like their identification.

Black for evil, black for a sinner, black for everything that could possibly be wrong with me.

Moving from the doorway, where I had been standing for what I thought must've been a few minutes, I sauntered to the back corner of my designated 'living' space. Bending down and slamming a fist on the furthermost tile, I grinned when I watched it come loose, tilting upwards and letting me grab a corner to pull it out. A few pieces of dirt and dust skidded across the floor, miniature devils against the surface that screamed for my carelessness.

I used a lazy foot to toss the majority under my bed before leaning forward where I had pushed the tile to the side. My hand curled around a familiar curved spine, and the book came out of its solitary cell, burning the air with its poisonous, acid green color.

Making sure my door was securely closed, I leaped unto the bed, enjoying the way the springs bounced weakly for a few minutes before flipping open the pages to find where I had left off. My crooked writing guided me to the next blank page, and I caught the scratched pen that almost fell out before it actually could. I examined it in my hands for a second with a frown, noticing how the ink was almost at the very bottom.

I'd have to steal another soon.

_Whatever day this is 207,_

_New kid came yesterday, woke up today. Name's Roxas, blonde hair, blue eyes. A little on the short side. Naminé talked to him already, but got him away. He got lost in the hall near Dem's room, and heard Zexion trying to fix him. Doesn't understand what happened. Will probably tell him later, if I feel like it._

_Found me afterwards, was screaming in the hall, really loud. Kind of annoying. Has a big mouth, remember that. Like a time bomb, angry, confused. Don't push it. He wants to trust me, naive. Make sure no one takes advantage of that. _

I glanced down at my choppy words, narrowing my eyes unsurely and adding one last thing before tossing the book back in the ground.

_Protect him._


	5. O

_Disclaimer :_ I do not own Kingdom Hearts, its characters, or anything associated. I do not own any aspect of Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, either.

_Author's Note : _Hi everyone. Sorry it took me so long to actually update this, but I wasn't feeling very motivated at all :(

Like I said, I'm sort of lost as how to go from here until the ending I know I want to get to, so I feel this chapter is kind of crappy since nothing is really happening. If anyone has any advice on how to improve (I think my dialogue is awkward?) I would appreciate any and all constructive criticism. Oh, and I don't know why, but I wanted to put Alice's Adventures in Wonderland quotes in here. So I did. It's weird and I'm sorry. I did it with another story (different book though), and I can't seem to stop... I'll probably be back to edit this anyway, since it just doesn't feel right...I just need to get back into the groove of this story.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed because it really means a great deal to me. Please do review after you read, otherwise my muse explodes into little tiny uninspired pieces.

(Oh, and I know Riku's eyes like turned green in KH2, but too bad, they will always be blue to me **:)** )

_/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/_

_Our Straitjackets Are Slipping_

-x-x-x-x-

**O**

-x-x-x-x-

_It was warm._

_That was the first thing he recognized, the glow of the sun's rays against his face, the heat sinking into his skin as if wanting to become a part of him. It burned his eyes slightly, reflecting against the glassy surface of what appeared to be water._

_Once he realized that he was in an ocean, Roxas noticed that he was bobbing up and down in the waves, some hitting his face lightly while others carried him to great heights. A few yards away, he could make out the clean, white strip of land, soft sand that stretched for miles as far as he could see._

_The part that shocked him the most was that he was laughing, smiling, his heart light and free. Even more startling was that he couldn't imagine being anything but._

"_Hey -" _

_A voice called out playfully, but the rest of the sentence was drowned out by the roaring of the sea. A small splash met the back of his head, and Roxas spun around to see a boy grinning at him slyly. _

"_Don't tell me you're day-dreaming again!" he teased, hair that looked silver in the sunlight plastered to his head. "Do you want to drown?"_

_Roxas felt himself smile, words escaping from his mouth unbidden, "Aw come on, Riku." _

_The boy named Riku laughed contently, floating on his back in the crystal water, blue eyes glittering suspiciously._

"_I was just making sure," he rolled his eyes while kicking some water into Roxas' face harmlessly. "It would be such a chore if I had to waste my time saving you."_

_Roxas leaped forward, ready to push Riku under the water when his target disappeared, only a few popping bubbles showing where he had been. Pausing, Roxas treaded water cautiously, a nervous excitement building when his friend didn't reappear._

"_Riku?" he shouted, getting a little worried. Just as he was about to repeat the action, a hand curled around his foot, dragging him under. Roxas' eyes widened just in time to burn, his gaping mouth filling with salt-water while his lungs begged for air after a few stunned seconds. Scrambling back to the surface, he burst through with a cough to see Riku splashing around with laughter._

"_Got you-" he was cut off again by the cawing of seagulls as they passed overhead, but Roxas' didn't feel bothered by it. _

"_I don't think so!" Roxas replied, this time jumping forward and dunking Riku under before he could swim away, laughing cheerfully when his friend's astonished and indignant features reappeared, albeit much more drenched and lacking the same dignity. _

"_You better start running!" Riku warned, taking off after Roxas, who was already thrashing his way towards shore._

"_You'll never catch me!" he grinned over his shoulder, the challenge in Riku's eyes the last thing he saw before he..._

woke up.

His eyes snapped open, blue irises already narrowed, expecting the glare of the sun. Instead, they stared up at a pristine white ceiling, and when they shifted down, four blank walls. Letting out a deep sigh, Roxas allowed his head to fall back onto his pillow from where he had lifted it in excitement. Closing his eyes, he called back the dream, the bitter taste of salt on his tongue, the sun baking his skin in a way that he somehow knew would burn later, the sound of waves lapping against the shore, all coated with light-hearted laughter.

Frowning and ignoring the prickling behind his eyes, Roxas sat up, running his hands through his messy hair to try to calm himself down.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that it couldn't have been a dream. He could feel the sand between his toes, Riku's hand grabbing his leg before the sensation of being pulled around. The surprise, the happiness, even the worry...it had been so real.

And Riku...

He could still hear his laugh, cocky and self-confident, proud and strong. The icy-blue eyes that turned warmer in the light, the bright smile...they were all pieces of someone he thought he knew, someone he had known.

But how?

Yet even as he tried to hold on, to grasp it, the threads that had held the vision together slipped out of his fingers, somewhere too far away for him to call them back. After a few minutes, all he could recall was a stale copy, the same canvas but without all the stunning color that had brought the piece to life.

Keeping the train of thought running in the back of his mind, Roxas pulled himself out of bed with a yawn and got ready, making quick use of the bathroom he had found attached to his room. A streak of rebellion kept him from making his bed, but after leaving it undone yesterday, he knew that it would somehow become made, hospital corners, by the time he came back.

After a few minutes Roxas left his room behind, walking through the corridors that seemed so less confusing without the panic and fear. He repeated the directions to the cafeteria Axel had given him in his mind like a mantra to keep from getting lost. He made it there eventually, not bothering to quell the small feeling of triumph since it was the first time he had succeeded in surpassing the never-ending twists and turns.

Pushing against the thick double-doors with his shoulder, he stumbled inside, surveying the area with a little anxiety and self-consciousness. There was about a dozen tables, all organized in carefully constructed rows and columns, black-clothed figures sitting at each. Most tables were empty since the people seemed to clump together in small groups.

Roxas' apprehensive eyes trailed over several people he did not now, including a sickly looking blonde seated next to a young-looking boy with steely hair. Another sweep around the area caught a glimpse of red hair and a slouched over form. He spotted Axel at a table by the corner, farthest away from everyone else who was scattered across the room in an anti-social cloud.

"Hi," Roxas greeted when he sat down, unable to overcome the first feeling of awkwardness that rushed upon him.

Axel's weary eyes went from the cereal he was tipping out of his spoon to Roxas' pale face, gaze brightening a little with an uttered, "Yo."

Pushing a bowl of cereal towards Roxas, Axel went on, "Here. Saix was going to grab it, but it was the last one, so..."

Trailing off, Axel spooned some of the tasteless grains into his unimpressed mouth while Roxas grabbed the utensil settled on the top of his own.

"Thanks," he replied earnestly while Axel simply shrugged, his brain obviously still fogged with the cloak of sleep. When Axel made no move to speak, Roxas curled his arm around his bowl and tried to make note of the other inhabitants of the room. He would be satisfied to get appearances down first since he could always ask Axel for names later.

Far across to the left of the room sat someone with dull blue hair, and next to him was a girl who was almost platinum blonde. The two were in deep conversation, and the girl was stabbing a fork into her food viciously. Not wanting to get caught staring, Roxas moved on, taking in another man with shortly cropped brown hair sitting next to the pair he had noticed when he first came in.

His attention shifting over a few more heads, Roxas noticed Naminé, her small frame looking pitifully out of place against the large table where she sat alone. There was no food at her place, just the sketchpad that Roxas had seen her with when he had woken up.

Abruptly, her head rose, and her wide baby-blue eyes met his while an innocent smile blossomed on her lips. Unsure of what to do when the sight of her caused Axel's previous words to echo in his ears, Roxas lifted a hand in an uncomfortable, half-hearted wave before turning back around. He shoveled some cereal into his mouth, trying to ignore the staring he felt on the back of his head.

After a few minutes of sleepy silence, broken only by the occasional chewing and grumbles of conversation by those around them, Roxas had to remove the tension.

"Is there anything to do here?" Roxas questioned, resting his head on his hands behind his half-empty bowl of cereal. Axel paused from where he had been blowing a piece of hair that had fallen in front of his face.

"Man, you made me lose count," he complained, his mischievous smile giving the act away. Actually giving Roxas' question some thought, he continued offhandedly, "There's a library. I could show you that. It isn't much to get excited over though."

Roxas nodded slowly, muttering in agreement, "That'd be cool." When a few more seconds crept by, Axel slammed his palms onto the table and stood, stretching languidly and starting towards the entrance, gesturing over his shoulder.

"Alright, let's go," he demanded, waiting impatiently while Roxas leapt to his feet, dropping his spoon into his empty carton while noticing that Axel's was still in the same state as when he had arrived.

"What about-" he was going to ask before Axel started pulling him along, leaving their garbage for someone else to pick up.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not hungry," Axel explained when Roxas raised his eyebrows in protest. Taking a glance at Axel and then surveying the rest of the thin bodies huddled around large tables, he noticed uneaten food almost at each place. As the doors came into view, Roxas' battled with himself but the guilty side won, and he gave a quick glance to Naminé's place only to see that she was gone.

"So," Axel started after releasing Roxas' arm, where it then swung heavily back to his side, "I see you made it to the cafeteria in one piece. Managed not to get lost today?"

Roxas felt a flush of embarrassment run across his face, which he turned to the floor to hide.

"It wasn't too hard," he protested when he heard Axel's low chuckle of amusement. "I just remembered what you told me yesterday."

"Huh," Axel grunted quietly, his face morphing into a thoughtful expression. When he gave nothing else, Roxas tentatively shook his companions arm slightly.

"Axel?" he pressed, watching narrowed green eyes bloom wide with recognition when Axel shook his head with a careful smile.

"Sorry," he apologized, striding forward a little faster than before. "Got distracted."

"Okay..." Roxas responded quietly, having a run a little to keep up with Axel's longer steps.

Conversation after that dulled, but this time Roxas didn't feel the return of that thick, suffocating tension. When he thought about it, subconsciously burning holes into Axel's back with his own stare, it made sense. What was there to talk about? They had known each other for only the miniscule span of two days, and neither one of them had lives to discuss, experiences to share and laugh over.

Well, Axel had been...wherever they were, longer than he had, but after taking a few calculated glances at Axel's unreadable features, Roxas had a feeling that he wouldn't really want to talk about it.

"Here we go," Axel voice interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up from where he had been staring at his feet to see Axel yanking a door open with playfully dramatic flair. He stepped through easily, and Roxas rushed forward to keep from being hit as the panel of wood prepared to swing back into place.

The room was small, only a few square feet larger than the one Roxas now was forced to call his own. Axel moved forward to investigate one of the five bookcases that lined the walls, and Roxas almost felt nauseous at the fact that wood was also indeed colorless. Roxas stepped around the sparse chairs placed around the center to where Axel was, bent over and pulling titles forward with one finger before letting them fall back into place.

"Told you it wasn't much," he finally said, a few traces of blame coating his undertones that confused Roxas.

"It isn't that bad," Roxas found himself replying, forehead creasing as he wondered why he felt like apologizing. "At least there's something, right?"

He leaned forward to grab a thin text, squinting to read the silver lettering looped on the cover.

"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland?" he read aloud slowly, looking in confusion at the small picture printed beneath the words.

Axel nodded after noticing his response and tossing back another book.

"They're all fairy-tales," Axel commented, noticing the one in Roxas' hands and commenting, "That one's not too bad, actually."

"But why fairy-tales?" Roxas wondered, flipping through a few pages and finding himself disappointed in the jumble of mismatched words that didn't seem to have a point or direction.

"Because they don't usually make sense, either that or they spoon-feed you picture perfect endings," came Axel's explanation as something Roxas sensed was more of a guess. "You think they'd give us anything real? Anything that would make us want to leave any more than we already do?"

Axel yanked forth a novel, glaring down at the words with a disgusted sneer.

"And true love's kiss awakens the princess from her sleep," he read snidely, dropping the book on the floor carelessly. "Yeah right."

Roxas opened his book to a random page, eyes drifting along the illustration of what appeared to be a cat perched humorously in a tree.

"But I don't want to go among mad people," he read slowly, pushing hair out of his face from where it had fallen when he bent his head.

"Oh you can't help that. We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.

How do you know I'm mad?"

"You must be. Or you wouldn't have come here," Axel finished, causing Roxas to jerk to face him in slight surprise.

Axel shrugged underneath his piercing look, "There aren't that many books to choose from."

Turning his back on Roxas, which Roxas guessed he did to hide his expression, he finished with a dry laugh of misplaced sarcasm, "Seems I've been here way too long."

Roxas snapped the book closed, his curiosity peaked but for now suppressed, and tucked it under his arm to take back to his room later.

"How long have you been here, Axel?" Roxas asked softly, watching the one in question's shoulders bunch up to his ears, a sign of clear discomfort. For a while, Roxas didn't think he was going to answer, and he felt disappointment settle in his stomach, heavy and poisonous. He turned away, preparing to sit down and actually start his book in a childish retaliation, but Axel suddenly deemed it suitable to reply.

"Who knows?" he whispered, a question for a question. "All I have is that it's been almost a year since my last...visit. I could've been erased sixty times before that for all I know."

"Or care," he added toxically, unable or not wanting to keep the hatred from slithering into his voice.

Roxas knew that from the tone of Axel's reply, his mood wasn't his best, and perhaps he should leave this conversation for later. However...this talk of fairy-tales, of what's real and what is just a collection of adjectives and nouns between two halves of wood, brought back the thoughts of the morning. Once again, he could playback the grayscale scene of two boys at the beach, two boys with freedom and names that were real.

"Hey, Axel...?" Roxas began with trepidation, grateful when the redhead turned around, the fire having died down into a calmer disposition. Rubbing the side of his arm slightly, feeling a little stupid with his question, Roxas went on,

"Do you ever dream?"

Axel looked at him with a perplexed expression for a few moments before saying, "You mean while I'm asleep?"

Roxas nodded with a more relaxed smile, "Yeah."

Axel crossed his arms, his eyes becoming half-lidded in a minute of thought.

"No," he finally came up with, "or if I do, I don't remember them."

"Why?" he wondered on, sounding interested if not skeptical. "Do you?"

"I don't know," Roxas admitted, looking right into Axel's curious eyes. "I think they might be memories."


End file.
